The Kingdoms of the Wild had not seen a thunderstorm so terrible since the dying days of the Flood Wars. Bolts of gold and silver lightning lit the trees aflame, and fire and ice rained down on the helpless masses.

Mr. Raccoon, private eye, was snooping around in the dark for some scent of crime, a clue to explain recent events. He climbed the highest tree and stared into the moonlit skies. He stuck his head into the old river and spied on the marines. He searched the caves for foul play and roamed the grasslands for hidden heads. It was all he wanted to discover the truth behind the downpours.

But as he reached the ends of the kingdoms, he was still only as aware as when he started out. Before he decided to call it a night, fate blessed him with the answers he wanted. The last thing he heard was a muttered word, and they stood above him with blood on their lips.

The wildlings awoke to find their trusted eye, Mr. Raccoon in bits. And stuffed in his mouth was a parchment that read:

Spoiler for role:

Mr. Raccoon

You are Mr. Raccoon. You want to find all the answers, but the answer your heart desires over all others is "who shall become Mrs. Raccoon?"

Role: You are the Investigator. You can investigate a player each night to find out whether they're good or evil. You may even find your ideal mate if you search hard enough.

Habitat: The Grasslands.

Win Condition: Don't die Day Zero.

"Now there will never be a Mrs. Raccoon," said a weeping giraffe.

"So what if we may not have kings? This cannot be allowed!" proclaimed an angry hippo.

A young lion stepped forward. "We will find out who is responsible for this, and when we do they will be... lynched."